


Resurrection

by saturninesunshine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Future Fic, i'm just angry, ignore the randomness, show canon somewhat, venting because of awfulness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 13:40:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturninesunshine/pseuds/saturninesunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Red Witch was right all along. They would meet again. Brown eyes. Blue eyes. Green eyes. Eyes she would shut forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resurrection

**Author's Note:**

> If it isn't clear, I am just really emotional about this episode. I needed to vent my feelings in a fic, as is my way. So this is in the future, but I guess current at the same time. I just needed a Gendrya reunion.

When she found her way to Storm’s End finally, Ser Davos Seaworth was still rotting in the dark cells. She supposed that if lowborn smugglers could be knights than lowborn bastards could be kings. But she didn’t want to think about that.

_Joffrey._

_Cersei._

_The Hound._

_Ilyn Payne._

And the Red Witch.

Ser Davos Seaworth was in the cells for wielding a bold knife. She didn’t have time to think of king’s bastards. All she had was hot vengeance running through her veins.

“I tried before. She can’t be killed.”

She peered at him through the bars.

“I won’t fail," she said honestly. "She knows I’m coming.”

“Then why can't you fail?”

“Because I’m not meant to.”

The girl formally known as Arya Stark was already drenched in blood by the time she reached the tower with Ser Davos Seaworth by her side.

“You have the look of the Starks. They’d have a daughter about your age.”

“I don’t know about that,” she answered.

She wielded two swords when she reached the tower. The Red Priestess wasn’t alone.

But the girl formally known as Arya Stark didn’t care about that at all.

…

“Do you remember me?”

The witch wore read just like she remembered. But there was no fear or worry in the woman’s eyes like she was used to.

“You said we’d meet again.”

“I did,” the red woman answered.

The girl wielded her two swords, blood swiping tracks in the floor.

And he came out of nowhere, wielding a hammer. It whistled through the air but she struck out her foot, hitting him solidly in his strong chest. He hit the floor on his back with a groan, the air thrown from his lungs.

She made her way towards him unhurriedly, planting her foot on his chest. She leaned towards him, staring into his piercing blue eyes.

“Don’t try that again, bastard.”

He just stared at her, breathless. He stared and kept on staring.

He didn’t get up.

“I knew you’d come.”

The girl looked over at the witch’s words.

“Did you see this in your stupid flames?” she asked. “Did you see that you’re all just mad?”

“I saw you, blood child. Wolf child.”

“Brown eyes. Blue eyes. Green eyes.” The girl remembered. “I think you forgot one pair.”

The witch jerked as the girl thrust her two rapiers into the woman’s face. The room was silent but she could smell the familiar and glorious scent of death.

She shoved the knives further with a satisfying crunch.

She shoved her foot into the dead woman’s abdomen, sending her to floor, brains spilling from the face.

The boy was still on the ground.

“Arya Stark’s dead.”

It was the first time that she heard him speak. His voice was deeper, if it were possible. But he was timid.

He was still breathless.

“Yes that’s true,” she answered quietly.

“She died at the Twins. The Freys betrayed the Starks—“

“And they sewed a my brother’s direwolf’s head on his body," she cut him off. "But Arya Stark didn’t die at the Twins. She died in a cave. She died when her father’s head was taken. She died an orphan. And she died when a stupid bastard boy left. But you’re right about one thing. Arya Stark is dead.”

“Then who are you?” he demanded.

She watched the boy get to his feet.

The man.

“No one,” said Arya Stark.

…

Arya Stark was six and ten. Every night she said a prayer for everyone who would meet the edge of her knife when she was ready.

The guards at the front of the façade were easy. In fact, even the red bitch was easy.

This wasn’t easy. The eyes. Eyes that screamed S _tarkstarkstarkstarkstark_ when they laid on her. Those weren’t the hardest. The hardest were the broken blue ones that she hadn’t slaughtered.

When the Brothers Without Banners arrived, she drew her bow. She sent one flying into Anguy’s shoulder.

“Believe me. That was exactly where I wanted it to go.”

 The bowman only laughed. In that moment, he knew her.

“Aye," he said. "I never imagined I’d see Arya Stark. Let alone being at her mercy with a bow.”

“There’s no Arya Stark here.”

She refused to speak to them again. And she waited. She waited for repercussions that seemed to refuse to come.

“She needed to die.” She didn’t need Davos to tell her that. “Whatever she had done to you, it doesn’t matter. She was controlling the king.”

“And which king would that be?” Arya asked.

Every king was the one true king just like every god was the one true god. But there was only one god that she answered to.

She couldn’t bear to see those sad blue eyes.

Ser Davos didn’t answer that. “You could leave before he has your head.”

“He should have my head,” Arya said. “At least it would be over.”

“No.”

It wasn’t Ser Davos but the voice belonging to the boy that she couldn’t bear to look at.

“I’m tired of the cold,” Arya said distantly, refusing to look at him.

It wasn’t something a daughter of Winterfell should ever say, but it was the cold inside her that was the most unbearable.

“Stannis can come and kill me for killing his whore.”

“He won’t,” Gendry insisted. “He’s fair.”

Arya looked over at him in disgust.

“There is nothing fair in this world. Staring with her. And you served her.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“I don’t want to hear what it was like.”

 She had heard rumors of the way the red witch had with all the men. She remembered as a child the first time she laid eyes on her and how all the men drooled like common dogs.

When men stared at her, she knew it was for an entirely different reason.

Sansa would always be the pretty one.

She didn’t want to hear about the witch or the brothers that Gendry didn’t seem to hate as much as she did. She didn't want to hear about how Gendry laid with the woman that bought him like a slave. There was so much hate running through her she thought she’d die. She wished she would die.

“I won’t let you.”

And she hated that he could think he had any sway over her.

Arya glared at Gendry.

“And who are you? New lord of Storm’s End?” Her voice was scathing but his eyes were fierce. They weren’t the gentle ones she had known. They were more like hers.

“You were dead before and I won’t let you be dead again,” said Gendry stubbornly.

He was always stupid and stubborn. But he was still different. He wasn’t bashful in her presence like he used to be in face of her title. She supposed he had a title of his own now. But he wasn’t afraid to look at her anymore.

She wasn’t afraid either.

“Do you know why I didn’t like that woman?” Arya spat. “It started with buying a stupid boy who thought bandits could be is family. It ended with me taking out her eyes because she was a witch who burned innocent people alive. I said it as a child and it isn’t any different now.”

“Oh, it’s different now.” Arya used to be fond of Anguy. That was before he sold out a boy who only wanted family. “Now girls are talking about you like you did her. Now girls are seeing Arya Stark and saying ‘I don’t like that woman.’”

“What are you talking about?” Arya asked.

“Shut up, Anguy.”

Arya’s eyes flicked to Gendry. For the first time, he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at his feet the way he used to.

“Gendry knows it,” Anguy grinned. “He knew it the moment he laid eyes on you.”

“What?” Arya asked. “He’s just a stupid bull that stares.”

“Aye,” Anguy answered. “There’s a reason to stare at you know, isn’t there?”

“No,” Arya said blankly. She felt like a child again. Forced to converse with people she hated and them talking about things she didn’t understand.

 “You still are a child,” Gendry said angrily.

Arya recoiled. She had never heard Gendry speak to her in that manner. He was fuming but she hadn't done anything to him. He was the one that was laying with red witches. He was the confusing one.

“They don’t have mirrors across the Narrow Sea?” Anguy asked.

“Of course they do,” Arya answered.

Gendry was stubbornly silent. She could hear laughter in her ears but she couldn’t understand it.

"The men across the sea don't know what a grown woman looks like?" Anguy asked.

 "The men I meet in the Free Cities are all dead," Arya said coldly. She wasn't sure what any of this was supposed to mean.

“Tell me, then. Why are you still here?” Anguy asked.

“Waiting for you precious king to come and kill me. That’s what was promised, wasn’t it?”

“And why did you come and kill the red priestess?” he questioned.

“Because she was evil and I wanted to.”

“Sure it wasn’t something else?”

“What else could it possibly be?” Arya asked.

“Sure it wasn’t someone else? Last time you saw Gendry, he was being taken away in chains.”

“Because of you,” Arya fumed. She hadn't felt such anger in such a long time. She couldn't remember Gendry ever being so resistant to look at her before.

“Hear that Gendry? The little she-wolf never forgot you.”

“I’m not little,” Arya said shortly. But her head still only came up to Gendry’s chest. She wondered if he grew any either.

“Aye. Not no more.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Gendry snapped. He stormed away from the table, Arya’s eyes following him.

 …

“You have no reason to be angry with me.”

He couldn’t keep his eyes from her. She stood before him and they were alone. And she was striking. Her clumsy features as a child had matured into something dangerous.

They were alone.

He should say how improper it was or how they shouldn’t be speaking of such things. But he couldn’t look away from her and her angry beauty.

“I have many reasons.”

He still felt the fire in his breast. The same fire he felt when he heard of little Arya Stark being slaughtered.

“You left me.”

Suddenly he wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t afraid that Arya was really gone. He saw her wolverine eyes and knew she was still with him.

“And then you left me.”

“ _How_?” she asked, infuriated. She was frustrated, he could tell. He wanted to suck up all the anger she had and keep it with him inside forever.

“I told you,” he said. “You died.”

“Like it would have mattered,” she answered. “You wanted away from me from the start.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong.”

“Your actions proved differently.”

She turned away from him, but didn’t leave him alone. He didn’t know if he could allow her ever being out of his sight again.

She ripped at the front of her clothes angrily.

Her cloak fell to the ground, revealing her leather jerkin. Without the sleeves, her back was turned to him. He could see the angry white lines crossing and thrashing each other across her skin. He knew she had been places and seen things that she never should have.

He took a step forward but then remembered himself.

“M’lady.”  He turned away, averting his eyes.

“I’m no lady.” But her voice wasn’t angry. It was just dead. Just like the rest of her. “And I hear you’re some fancy lord now.”

“I’m still a bastard.”

“I still haven’t a care of the lot of you.”

He looked up to see her. To absorb her face. Her eyes, her nose, her ears, her mouth. All the same. But emotionless. The same but lined with maturity and a fierce beauty that she still couldn’t see.  Her dark hair fell in foreign braids past her shoulders.

She was a woman grown and he shouldn’t be looking at her like that still. But she was looking at him back, her eyes flashing. 

And she was Arya again.

“They sold you, you stupid bull. And she was going to hurt you.”

He remembered when he saw her. He couldn’t see that it was her at first. But her foot was on his chest, and she gazed at him through stone eyes. And he could see her now as he saw her then. He had missed her and he had found her again. Something in him had been lost and been replaced by fury. But now it had turned into something new.

“You came for me?”

He hadn’t wanted to believe it.

“I didn’t,” Arya said. “You invite those _brothers_ to your table and they betrayed you.”

“You came for me.” He was smiling now and he could see how angry and frustrated she was getting again. And he felt his heart swell in something that it shouldn’t.

“She was going to hurt you. Just like your so-called family. Worse.”

“You killed her for m—“

“Shut up, you stupid bull,” Arya seethed. “Go back to your lord uncle and your pretty life.”

“It’s the same as yours.”

“It isn’t,” she replied. “I have no life. Only death.”

“I heard you were dead,” Gendry said coldly. “And all I felt was hate. All I knew was anger. And I know death.”

“Why would you do something like that?”

“Because you are the only family I ever knew.”

She pushed away angrily. He knew it wasn’t the right thing to say. It wasn’t right and everything he had said to her before this moment had been wrong. But it was the truth.

“I remember differently.” She couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t be dead when she looked so sad.

“All I remember is you.”

She didn’t want to hear it. “You’re a king’s nephew now. And I have a list to finish.”

“I was dead too. But then I saw you. And that’s all that matters.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Arya sneered. “I gorged the eyes from her head. And if I could have done it then, I would have. I’m a blood child.”

“You don’t look like a child to me.”

She started.

“I’m six and ten,” she said slowly. She still couldn’t see herself.

“Marrying age.”

“I’ll never marry. You were stupid to think I’d ever be a lady.”

“All you have to be is Arya.”

“I’m not that either.”

“You are. I know you can remember. You remember me. You know who you are too. You’re fierce. You’re strong. You’re m’lady.”

“Lords say my lady.”

“I’m Gendry and you’re Arya. That’s all that matters.”

…

"I'm six and ten."

Her hair was wet from the baths and he still couldn't look away from her. He was sure he would never find a ghost so beautiful. 

"Eyes follow you wherever you go." Gendry knew it was true. He shouldn't be so near her that he could smell the rosewater. He shouldn't be thinking of her nakedness at all.

"I'm a wolf," she said. "I'm not a lady."

"That's not why they look," Gendry said. "Have you never laid with a man?"

It was inappropriate but that seemed to matter less and less with her living and breathing like he never thought she would be again.

"And you?" she snapped. "You and your red woman?"

He could see Arya then. He could see a lost girl and a woman he never had the right to look upon. But she was grown and he was grown and he never thought he could miss anything so much, no matter how improper it was.

"She wasn't mine," Gendry said.

"You looked at her."

"I'm looking at you."

"Why?

"Why do you think?" he asked. "You're the stupid one."

He could never be so pleased with the passionate look on her face. One of anger. One of feeling.

“Can't you see yourself?” he asked. "You're dangerous. You're beautiful."

It was the first time he heard her laugh. It was cold and emotionless, but it was a laugh all the same.

And he knew she truly wasn’t lost.

 

 

 


End file.
